Exodus
by autophagy
Summary: All is well in Australia, but that's about to change. The worlds of two T20s collide as disaster strikes and not only theirs but hundreds of other lives as well are at stake.
1. Chapter 1

A sudden silence filled the vessel's cargo hold. For almost three weeks, the constant rumble of the heavy engines had filled every second of each day and night. Now it was gone. The moments passed by, and nothing moved inside the dark hold. Then, the deafening roar of a fog horn woke up the living freight. Three dozen tanks were startled awake, flinching on their suspensions. The general confusion lasted for a couple of seconds. A mechanical whirr and a groan of metal made all turrets turn to the ramp that was starting to open. Bright daylight fell through the gap. The tanks squinted at the growing opening, which was just a blinding rectangle at first. Eventually, the ramp finished its descent and a dark silhouette appeared in the entrance.

"Good morning!" the voice that belonged to the silhouette shouted. "Everyone alive in there? Welcome to New Perth!"

The tanks inside the cargo hold started talking over each other and movement set in as they stretched their tracks or went to grab their luggage. Some of them made their way outside right away, creating a little traffic jam at the ramp.

"Thrira! Come on!" a Comet said as he nudged the T20 next to him. The T20's turret was turning as she watched the other tanks drive about. "Let's get out of here!" the Comet added cheerfully. "I can't wait to have _real_ ground under my tracks again!" He looked around for a moment as well. "Where'd the Crommies go?"  
Thrira pointed at two green rears near the entrance.  
"Gone ahead already." she said.  
"What? Do they expect us to carry their stuff for them?" the Comet replied, blowing a huff of air through his vents. The other medium chuckled.  
"Probably can't wait to get outside either" she guessed.  
"Hey! Didn't you forget something?" the Comet asked the other Brits through his radio.  
«We can get the luggage later! We wanna see the kangaroos!» came the answer. One of them threw a look over his fender with a grin.  
"The kangaroos…!" the Comet repeated. He rolled his cannon. "Of course, how could I forget…"  
"I think we'll be getting tired of seeing them soon enough" Thrira added, her voice sourish now. She set herself into motion to roll towards the back of the cargo hold, where the carts with their things were.  
"Aw. You'll see, it won't be that bad." the Comet replied, driving next to her. "The time will go by and before you know it, we'll be on our way home already!" He grinned broadly and Thrira nodded with a sigh.

They made their way outside and left the ship behind them, which had turned its engines off and gone to sleep. Other than tanks, whose engines had to run constantly, ships could turn theirs off for extended amounts of time to conserve fuel. This was possible because of the solar collectors the ships were equipped with, which kept their batteries loaded. Once it would be needed again, the ship would be able to start again with no trouble, but for now it could rest after the long travel.

Outside, surprisingly mild weather greeted them. When they had left the mainland, they had left a dry and hot July behind them. Now they were received by a breeze that was almost chilly, even though the sun was shining bright in the sky. Seagulls were flying, filling the air with their cries. One of them landed on the Comet. He shook his turret with wonder.  
"Didn't they say that summer here is unbearably hot?" he asked Thrira. They had caught up with the Cromwells and the four of them were following the convoy of new arrivals along the pier.

There was a laugh from one of the tanks in front of them. It turned its turret around to smile at them.  
"It is. But it's not summer here right now. We're on the other side of the world, remember?"  
The Comet blinked, and the Cromwells let out a drawn-out "Ooohhh".  
"That's so weird" the Comet said, shaking his turret again. The other tank turned back around and the Comet turned to Thrira again. But before he could say anything, she pointed at something straight ahead of them.  
"Look!" she said. The other medium followed her gaze and their destination finally came into view. Before them, New Perth's buildings and tents extended across the horizon. It was the continent's biggest inhabited port town, ruled and built by the clan that lived here. The very clan that Thrira and her comrades were part of.

The convoy reached the first buildings, and started to scatter. Thrira, the Cromwells, and the Comet shared a clueless look. The T20 drove up to the tank that had received and led them.  
"Hey, what's the plan now?" she asked. All she knew was that she was supposed to join a fuel transport together with the others, but the specific details hadn't been given yet.  
The other tank gestured at the alleys.  
"You're free to do what you want for the rest of the day. Tomorrow at sunrise, report at the headquarters and you'll receive further instructions."  
Thrira nodded.  
"And our tents? Where can we set them up?"  
"Just wherever there's space."

"Alright." Thrira replied and turned back to the others. The Cromwells were grinning broadly.  
"Tavern?" one of them asked. The kangaroos were apparently forgotten already.  
The Comet's vents spluttered.  
"It's like noon!" he shouted in disbelief. The other Cromwell giggled and Thrira shrugged.  
"Do you have a better idea?" she asked.  
The Comet mumbled something unintelligible, but didn't make any suggestions of his own. The other three tanks shared a grin and the little group set itself into motion to go find a place for their tents.

xxx

"I said no!" the T32 yelled.

He turned around, but it was too late. A breath of dust was all that Prodigy caught as a tank raced past him and into the open gates of the factory. He only saw the rear of the T20 disappear inside as his team mate completely ignored him.

" _Striker!_ " he roared after him.

The addressed tank wasn't listening at all, instead blindly chasing an Ersatz Panther that was running away just as blindly. It had fled into the factory that had become the stage of a battle, and Striker was hellbent on catching and killing the rare tank, despite his leader telling him not to.

He rushed inside the derelict building, but its insides surprised him with their darkness, and he slowed down as he couldn't see the Ersatz Panther anymore. His gaze darted across the silhouettes of unfinished tank hulls and unknown machinery. Dust shimmered inside the few rays of light that fell through small, broken windows and holes in the high ceiling. The muffled sounds of the fight that was still going on outside echoed through the big hall. Striker felt a nervousness creep up on him, and he could see now what Prodigy had meant when he had told him that it was dangerous to go in there without backup. The Ersatz Panther could be hiding anywhere, just waiting for him to run in front of its gun. Every small noise - real or imagined - made him twitch as he slowly rolled forward, along a column of unrecognisable vehicles. His optics scanned the dark shapes frantically. Suddenly, something in the corner of his field of view moved. His turret spun around and he fired. The thunder of his cannon was accompanied by a metallic crash as one of the beams that supported the ceiling collapsed. Further in the back of the building, between two lifeless hulls, Striker caught a glimpse of the Ersatz Panther's dark green camo paint, and in the same moment a shell came flying towards him. It hit his track, but didn't break it.

The T20 hissed at the pain and backed up immediately, his cannon reloading. He heard Prodigy's angry voice from his radio, telling him that he was on the way inside the factory as well.

"I got it under control!" Striker protested. He had barely finished the sentence when the Ersatz Panther appeared before him, shooting at him as it rushed past him. A shell penetrated his turret and he screamed out.  
«What happened?» Prodigy asked, having heard the scream.  
Striker didn't answer. He was shaking his turret, trying to regain his bearings. His loading mechanism jammed, but that didn't stop him from kicking his engine into gear as he went to pursue the fugitive medium tank with a furious growl. The two tanks raced down a lane, Striker lagging behind several meters but gaining ground. He tried to force his loading mechanism to work, and somehow managed to indeed load a shell. Taking aim at the erratically swerving target, he was about to pull the trigger when the Ersatz Panther suddenly made a sharp turn to the left and crashed into a beam, running it over. A shower of rubble rained down on Striker - who had mimicked the other tank and was now almost right behind it - but he shook it off and took aim again. The Ersatz Panther disappeared between stacks of wheels and boxes, which collapsed behind it. Striker ploughed through them and as the Ersatz Panther came into view again, its turret was facing backwards. A shell whistled past Striker's turret cheek, so close that he could feel it. He returned the fire immediately. The shell ricocheted off the Ersatz Panther's gun mantlet and there was an impact somewhere above them. A crashing sound indicated something falling from the ceiling, but neither of the tanks paid attention as they raced on. The Ersatz Panther turned its turret back around, just in time to very narrowly avoid crashing into one of the hulls. It swerved into a lane that was formed by two opposing columns of tanks, when there was a screeching of metal and another crash as part of the ceiling collapsed right in front of the medium tank. Both tanks were swallowed by a cloud of dust. For a moment, neither of them could see where they were going.

Metal tracks screeched against concrete in a frantic braking action as the Ersatz Panther escaped the dust first and suddenly found itself staring down a 105 mm cannon. A T32 had appeared right in front of it. The Ersatz Panther screamed and tried to evade, but blew up a split second later as Prodigy fired. The German's turret landed next to Striker, who had braked as well and was staring at his leader. Prodigy's turret turned towards him slowly, and it was clear from his grimly lowered cannon that he was furious.

Striker wasn't sure what to say. He only knew that firstly, his kill had been stolen, and secondly, he was in trouble for disobeying his leader…again. He frowned at the other tank, but that frown turned into a shocked expression as said other tank charged and rammed him.

"Do you speak English?!" Prodigy barked and shoved the T20 harshly. Striker yelped as his front was dented and he was about to say something, but got cut off.  
"Do you understand the meaning of 'no'?!" the heavy went on. He pushed his team mate against one of the beams, which was bent by the impact of Striker's rear. There was a creaking noise above them, which went unnoticed over the heated debate. The T20 raised his cannon in an objection, trying to get some words in after all.  
"It wasn't that dangerous…! I could handle i-" he tried to defend himself. Prodigy didn't appreciate the backtalk and shoved him even harder.  
"No one asked for your assessment! I'm your fucking leader and you listen to me! If I tell you not to do something, you don't do it!" he yelled. "How many times do I have to tell you until you get it through your thick skull?!"  
"I just wanted to-"  
"One more time, Striker! _One more time._ "  
The T32 glared at him and Striker glared back subduedly. There was one last, forceful shove - a mistake that Prodigy had no time to regret as the beam finally gave. A fatal chain reaction was set into motion and when the two tanks became aware of it, it was already too late. Several hundred kilogrammes of roof dropped on them.


	2. Chapter 2

A ray of light fell through the tent's entrance. It was small, and not even very intense, but it woke Thrira up nevertheless. She groaned and shut her viewports. She felt somewhat nauseous, and regretted every single drop of high octane fuel that she had consumed the night before. How did she even get back into her tent? She certainly couldn't remember. But she would figure it out later. As she was about to try to go back to sleep, she suddenly realised that she shouldn't be sleeping at all. How late was it? She was supposed to be somewhere at sunrise. Flinching, she immediately set herself into motion. Or at least that was what she tried to do. There was a scraping noise and resistance. She stopped and looked around confusedly. To her left and to her right, there were two sleeping tanks.  
"Hey!" Thrira shouted. "What are you guys doing in here?! Get out!"  
The Cromwells twitched, woken up by her yelling. Their turrets spun around as they tried to figure out where they were, then they looked at Thrira. One of them seemed to remember something and he raised his cannon to protest.  
" _You_ complained that you were cold!"  
The other one nodded eagerly.  
"That's right! Sy and I were just-"  
Thrira sighed theatrically.  
"Whatever, we gotta get a move on! It's already past sunrise, we were supposed to show up at the headquarters ages ago!"

They manoeuvred themselves outside tent that was decidedly too small for three tanks. Driving up to the tent next to it, they heard loud snoring and knew right away that the Comet had slept in too. Thrira poked her cannon inside and fired at the ground. There was a yelp. The T20 and the Cromwells started snickering.  
"Are you trying to get me killed?" the Comet's scandalised voice could be heard from the inside.  
"Get up, sleepyhead! We're late!" Thrira said. She backed up and the Comet emerged from the tent. He looked like he was feeling the after-effects of the high octane fuel as well. He threw a drowsy look at the other tanks, then his expression grew alarmed.  
"Right!" he gasped. "Oh boy, we're in trouble…!"  
"Well they didn't come for us yet so maybe not" Thrira noted with a shrug. "But we shouldn't waste any more time nevertheless."

The Comet nodded gravely and the four tanks started hurrying to the headquarters. There were several tanks standing outside the big tent, talking to each other. Thrira recognised them as tanks that arrived with them. Some curious looks were thrown at the quartet as they made their way inside the tent, which was full of tanks as well. One of them turned its turret towards them as they entered, and then tilted its cannon.

"About time!" the M103 said. He gave Thrira and the others a stern look as they drove closer.  
"Sorry…" the Comet mumbled. He looked the most crestfallen of the four.  
"We got held up" Thrira said.  
The M103 frowned.  
"Everyone's been waiting for you." he said. The Cromwells threw guilty looks at the ground, and the Comet fidgeted, looking like he expected to be beheaded every moment. But it seemed like there weren't going to be any repercussions, as the M103 went on in a less strict tone.  
"As you probably know, you will be sent on a mission to transport fuel. T20, you will lead the transport. You are going to travel to a camp of prospectors and deliver fuel to them. There's two trucks who carry the fuel, and a guide who will show you the way. If you get attacked and any of them die, you will be held responsible."  
Thrira nodded dutifully.  
"Understood."  
"It will take you roughly ten hours to get to the camp. Once you delivered the fuel, return to New Perth. We have a lot of other work for you when you're done with your current mission."  
"Yessir."  
"That is all. Good luck."

The four tanks saluted and drove outside again. Thrira took a look at the present tanks. There were six others. The two trucks that the M103 had been talking about were there as well. The T20 fired into the air to get their attention.  
"Good morning, I'm Thrira and I'll be leading this transport." she said as everyone was looking at her. "Who of you is the guide?"  
One of the tanks raised his cannon.  
"I am."  
Thrira nodded and gestured at him.  
"We're departing. Lead the way."

The tank turned around and drove ahead; the others followed in a loose formation. Thrira, the Comet, and the Cromwells drove after the little crowd. They made their way eastward until they reached the border of the town, which was fortified by barricades. Thrira marvelled at the the wooden walls. They were about three meters tall and seemed to enclose the whole town. The guide lead them to a big gate and talked to the two tanks that were guarding it. They nodded and opened the gate. As the group had gone through it, it was closed again.  
"What's the point of these? I bet a tank could easily break them if it rams them at full speed." one of the Cromwells said with a tilted cannon.  
"I wouldn't be so sure about that…they look pretty massive to me" the Comet said thoughtfully.  
"Yeah, you're only gonna break your glacis!" the other Cromwell added. His friend pouted.  
"You don't know unless you try." he said defiantly.  
"We're _not_ gonna try" the Comet intervened.  
"I didn't say we were going to!" the Cromwell defended himself, his pout deepening. The Comet gave him a wary side-glance.  
"I'm just making sure…" he said.  
Thrira chuckled.  
"Pff. You're acting like tier ones" she said. The Cromwells shrugged with broad grins; only the Comet looked slightly offended, but he didn't try to refute the claim. Thrira chuckled again, then changed the subject.  
"Aaron, you should go and scout ahead" she decided, looking at the Cromwell. He didn't look thrilled, but nodded and drove off. Thrira turned to the other Cromwell next. "And you, Sy, should make sure no one's following us."  
"Yes ma'am!"  
The addressed tank saluted with a big grin and let himself fall back.

Thrira sighed.  
"Ten hours, huh?" she said to the Comet and looked ahead, where there was nothing but scrubland as far as she could see. "I'm already bored."  
The Comet hummed pensively.  
"How about Blind Arty?" he asked. Thrira's expression brightened.  
"Sounds good. You start."

xxx

When Striker came to, his turret hurt like hell, and he felt a big dent on it. His mind was spinning. It took him a moment to see clearly. Prodigy was still in front of him, but completely motionless. His hull was covered in rubble, but one piece of said rubble stood out especially: the metal bar that was sticking out of the top of his turret and had effectively impaled him. Striker's optics grew wide. He nudged the heavy tank, but nothing moved.

"Crap..." he hissed. That wasn't good. In fact, it was very bad in many ways.

His engine howled as he tried to back up, then push, then back up again, but he was wedged between his dead leader's hull and the debris behind him.

"God dammit!"

His cannon sank in defeat. He noticed movement in the corner of his optics and turned his turret, fearing that an enemy could have followed them inside. But a ray of light revealed one of Striker's team mates, a Jackson, who stared at him with an aghast expression.

"It's not my fault!" Striker shouted immediately, his gaze darting back and forth between the living and the dead team mate. The Jackson seemed to be at a loss of words.  
"Is he…?" he asked cautiously.  
Striker grimaced.  
"Well, _duh!_ "  
Looking at the wreck for a moment longer, the tank destroyer eventually turned to his radio.  
"Striker fucked up again." he said, "Fucked up really bad."  
"I did not!" the T20 whined. "I didn't force him to come here!"

The Jackson ignored his protest and started trying to push the rubble aside to free him. On the radio, the voices of the others asked what happened. Some of them connected the dots, taking into account the fact that they had seen and heard part of the factory collapse and Prodigy's and Striker's suspicious silence afterwards.

"Proddy is scrap metal." the Jackson explained.

"And I didn't do anything!" Striker continued trying to defend himself. He couldn't let the others get the idea that he was in any way responsible for their leader's death…otherwise he would be in deep trouble. The problem with that was that everyone knew that the T32 had gone after Striker to back him up (and of course also to give him a proper talking to, but that was an entirely different matter). It could definitely give someone the impression that it was Striker's fault that he was dead now.

«Honestly, we should just kick him already…» one of his team mates said.  
"Shut up!" Striker snapped. There was a collective murmur on the radio channel. Some of the voices sounded agreeing. Striker glared at the ground anxiously.  
"Try moving now" the Jackson said. He had managed to push aside some of the rubble, but there were also heavier pieces of metal that he couldn't move. Striker took his attention off the radio for a moment and started another attempt at backing up. He braced himself against the debris. At first it seemed like it would yield, but then it piled up and the T20 was trapped all the same. The Jackson tilted his turret.  
"I think we'll be better off moving the wreck." he stated pensively.  
Striker nodded. Further negative comments on the radio were absent as another one of his team mates showed up to help with moving Prodigy's body. Even the T29 had some trouble pulling the heavy tank, but eventually Striker was free. The three of them left the factory cautiously, this time not acting like a bull in a china shop. The rest of the team had gathered outside, as the battle was already over. All optics were on their dead leader and the T20 who threw defensive glances at the crowd. There was a certain kind of tension in the air. Striker noticed that one of his team mates had a different expression however. It was something like a smirk. Before the T20 could think about it too much, he heard a whisper on his private radio channel.

«Well done, it was about time that fucker bit the dust.»  
Striker averted his gaze.  
"It wasn't my…ugh." he replied. He was already tired of repeating himself to people who didn't want to listen. At least he now had confirmation of what he had only suspected so far: there were others who hadn't been all too fond of their leader. In fact, as he looked around once again, he realised that not all the expressions looked as incredibly affected as on first glance. Maybe that meant that if there was a vote whether it was his fault or not, he would have a chance.

The silence was interrupted by the T29 coming forward.

"So, who else is dead?" he asked. They did a quick roll call, and concluded that two more of their team mates had died during the battle. Which wasn't a bad result. They would find replacements soon enough. Actually, an unfamiliar tank was now among them. Striker guessed that it was a survivor of the other team. The T29 went on.

"We need a new leader." he said, addressing the most important issue at the moment. The others nodded, but no one said anything, apart from some of them whispering comments to each other. The T29's turret turned slowly as he looked around. "I nominate myself as the new leader" he said eventually. Everyone looked at him now, and Striker knew that he wasn't happy about this proposal. The T29 was one of the tanks whom he didn't really get along with well. But he was one of their strongest tanks, and a quick glance at the others revealed agreeing expressions. Prodigy had often relied on the other heavy's advice, so it was hardly a surprise that the T29 would think that he had a realistic chance of becoming his successor. He was also aggressive and respected enough to be eligible.

"Is anyone against me being the leader?" the T29 asked, "Those who are will either speak up now or deal with it." The others shook their cannons. "Alright." the heavy said. He turned to Striker, who looked back at him questioningly. The T20 knew that something wasn't right when the T29's expression turned to a condescending frown.

"As the new leader, I kick Striker from the team."

Striker gasped and stared at the other tank.  
"W-What!" he shouted.  
"You heard me." the T29 said coolly.  
"But- I didn't-"  
The T29 cut him off.  
"It's not about that. It's because I have no use for a loudmouthed brat who has no concept of authority."  
Striker fell silent. His gaze darted across the other tanks as if he expected them to say something in his defence, but everyone was quiet. Instead, some of them grinned. He looked at the T29 again.  
"You can't just kick me! I'm your best fighter!"  
"That's subjective" the T29 rumbled. "Now scram!"

There was the sound of guns being loaded, and Striker realised that it was time to do as he was told for once. He cursed and and raced off.


	3. Chapter 3

_[Well, not really happy with how this chapter turned out but it won't get better than this. Enjoy.]_

After taking a break after the first five hours of their travel, the convoy moved on in the morning. It was better than driving ten hours straight. Tired scouts couldn't do their job properly. Taking a rest and arriving later was wiser than hurrying to the destination and getting ambushed on the way. It was early afternoon now, and Thrira was talking to the guide as the Comet approached them.

"How far is it still?" the British medium asked. His gaze was wandering, grazing a group of big, strange birds that were strutting around nearby and watching the tanks warily.

"Can't be much farther" the guide said in an optimistic tone. "We passed a riverbed earlier, remember? From there it was only a one hour drive last time."

The Comet nodded.

"Hmmm." he hummed.

"If we're that close already, we should announce our arrival" Thrira suggested thoughtfully. "They use the same frequency as everyone does, right?"

The guide nodded. Thrira turned to her radio.

"Good afternoon, this is Thrira speaking. Can anyone hear me?"

It took a moment until there was an answer. The connection wasn't the best and there was a lot of static, but the words were still intelligible.

«Viper. I can hear you. Who are you?» a wary voice asked.

"We're bringing you some fuel. I'm sure you've been informed of our arrival?" Thrira replied. The voice got friendlier at once.

«Right, we've been expecting you.»

"How's the situation over there?"

«Everything's calm, no incidents.»

"That's good. We should be with you in an hour. Try not to shoot us when you see us."

«We'll think about it.»

Thrira raised an optic ridge, but assumed that he was joking. She ended the transmission with a brief goodbye and looked at the others again. The Comet returned her look with a contemplative expression and shrugged.

"You know, I've heard a lot about those camps but I didn't think I'd get to see one one day." he mused.

The guide tilted his cannon.

"Didn't realise they're so popular. Since there's only three of them and everything."

The Comet stared at him, blinking.

"Only three? I was told that they're looking everywhere...?" he said.

"Yeah they do. But like, it's not permanent camps. They're looking in one place, don't find anything, and move on. It's been going on like this from the beginning."

"That doesn't sound like they're very successful..." the Comet pointed out with a frown.

"Welllll..." the guide said with a cheeky grin, "No one said they are, did they?"

The Comet looked at the ground pensively.

"It's kinda made out to be a really big thing...I always thought we're making great progress over here. But now that you say it, you're right, no one actually ever said that."

The guide's grin made way for a more serious expression.

"I'm gonna be honest with you...I don't think there's any oil here. And I think high command will realise that one day."

For a moment he looked straight ahead, contemplating something. Then he went on, saying out loud what they were all thinking.

"Let's hope for everyone here that day never comes."

Thrira and the Comet nodded. An uneasy silence followed. There was no doubt that it would have catastrophic consequences for the free teams that lived here should the clan ever lose interest in the continent. Thrira cleared her vents. She was about to say something, when there was an incoming radio transmission from Aaron.

«Hey guys, I think I can see the camp!» he informed them cheerfully. The other tanks perked up their cannons. Curious looks were thrown at the horizon, where the faint silhouette of a tower-like structure had become visible. It protruded into the sky like a giant needle.

"Is that it?" Thrira asked the guide. He nodded.

"That's the drill." he replied.

"The drill? What's that?" the Comet asked.

"How did you think they're searching for the oil?" the guide said with a chuckle.

The Comet fell silent, blushed, and looked at the ground.

"Dunno…" he mumbled.

As they drove on, more of the camp came into view. Thrira and the Comet had driven ahead and joined the Cromwell. They could make out dark shapes, which had to be tents that were surrounding the drill. A grinding sound became audible, very faint at first but rising in volume steadily as they got closer. Thrira yelped as a shell suddenly hit the ground in front of her tracks. She hit the brakes. Her gaze darted across the horizon. The tanks by her side stopped as well, throwing hectic looks into the direction the shot had come from.

"What was that?" the Comet gasped. All of them loaded their cannons.

"Watch out! We're being shot at!" Thrira barked into her radio, and behind them the other guards immediately surrounded the trucks.

«What's wro-» the guide started to ask, but he was cut off by the bang of another cannon being fired. Dirt and dust covered the Comet as the shot buried itself into the earth in front of him. Thrira backed up, but there was no cover available. However, it seemed like their attackers weren't trying to kill them; otherwise they would probably be dead already. Finally the T20 could make out the silhouettes of what looked like tanks ahead of them. She tried speaking into her radio, using the clan's common channel.

"What are you doing? We're on your side!" she shouted. Considering she had specifically told them not to shoot them when they'd arrive, it sounded like the guy from the camp had been serious when he had said that they'd have to think about it. Or was it possible that enemies had taken over the camp? A couple of tense seconds passed until there was a reply on the radio. Thrira breathed a sigh of relief.

«Sorry.»

No more shots followed, and the group dared to relax a little.

"What the hell was that?" Thrira asked sullenly.

«We were attacked just earlier. We thought that there were more enemies coming.» came the sober explanation. The silhouettes of two unknown tanks ahead of them grew bigger as they were apparently driving closer. From behind Thrira's group, Sy came racing. He stopped next to his Cromwell friend, looking him over with a concerned expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Aaron nodded.

"I'm fine, no worries!" he said with a beaming smile. They turned their turrets towards the approaching strangers. One of the tanks was a Black Prince, the other a T25/2 with black camo paint. They saluted as they saw Thrira's rank insignia.

"Sorry again" the T25/2 said with a crooked, apologetic grin. Thrira recognised the voice as the one that she had spoken to when she had announced their arrival; Viper.

"We can't blame you." she said. "You said you were attacked? Is everyone alright?"

The Black Prince nodded.

"Mostly. One tank got badly damaged, three wounded slightly. They're being repaired right now. We took the surviving enemies captive and are currently figuring out what we should do with them."

"Can we see them?" Thrira asked. "Maybe we have a use for them."

"Of course" the Black Prince said. He turned around and led the way to the camp. "But I don't think you will." he added. "They performed rather poorly and are pretty low tier."

The others followed him and they entered the camp, where more tanks greeted them. They stopped in front of a group of four tanks, of which two were wearing the clan insignia. The other two were obviously the prisoners. They looked a bit beaten up and intimidated, but were otherwise in a good condition.

"We thought about using them for parts, but it's not really parts we need." Viper said.

"We could take them to one of the vendor camps" the guide suggested pensively. "It would be a small detour but there's one on the way back."

"That sounds like a good idea to me. They always have a demand." the Black Prince said. The prisoners froze. Their impending fates started dawning on them fully, and their expressions grew distressed. Thrira remained silent and looked at them, but didn't feel sorry; when they had attacked clan property, they were aware of possible consequences should they fail, and yet they took the risk. It was their own decision that would now lead to their deaths, so why should she feel sorry for them? The presence of TRVs also meant that they would simply get deactivated instead of getting shot. The latter tended to be messy, as often multiple shots were needed to off the offender. It was by no means a merciful death. They could consider themselves lucky.

"We'll do it like this then" the Black Prince went on after a moment of consideration.

The others nodded.

xxx

Loud music was blaring from the T20's radio. He was singing along, trundling through the dry bushland.

' _Fuck them_ ' was the thought that had been going through Striker's mind for the past few hours. ' _Who needs those assholes?_ ' Yes, he was fine on his own. A skilled fighter like him could get by without a stupid team. Being alone was so much better. No one was telling him what to do now. There was a little problem, though. When he had been kicked out, he of course hadn't been given any fuel as a parting gift, and would need to get hold of some; better sooner than later. He didn't know yet how to accomplish that. He wasn't delusional enough to think he could take on a whole team. But what other options did he have? He turned down the volume of his radio to be able to focus better and thought hard about his problem.

It took him a while until he had a sudden idea. After their recent battle, his old team was surely going to go to one of the vendor camps that were scattered around the land. They would trade the spare parts and wrecks for fuel and repairs. Now what his old team was doing was rather irrelevant to Striker, but other teams were frequenting these camps. If he observed the camp for a while, a weak team would eventually come along and he'd be able to follow and ambush them. Amazed by his own genius, he changed his direction and headed for the nearest vendor camp known to him.

He arrived after a short drive, sitting on a hill a good distance away from it and watching the activity through his binoculars. The T20 ground his gears bitterly as he spotted – of all people – his old team approaching the camp. Well, it wasn't like it was a surprise that they would come here, but the timing of their arrival was irritating. They were towing a variety of wrecks, among them their old leader. The metal bar was still stuck in his turret, giving him a distinct silhouette. Striker watched full of hunger-driven envy as they traded their wrecks and stowed away the fuel they got in return. They stayed a little longer until everyone was repaired, then left again.

"Good fucking riddance" Striker murmured to himself as he became aware that this had most likely been the last time he ever saw them. He glared after them until the horizon swallowed them, then turned his attention back to the camp. For several hours, nothing happened. Then, another team came along, but those were mostly high tier. No chance that Striker could attack them and live. He sighed and watched the clouds in the darkening sky instead. It didn't take long until he got sleepy, and he eventually nodded off.

When he woke up, it was early noon and he resumed his observation duty immediately. He caught a glimpse of a team disappearing in the distance and hoped that he hadn't just missed an opportunity. The hours passed again without any other team arriving, and Striker started to get a feeling of urgency. If it went on like this, he would starve on this very hill without even having had a chance to avert this fate. Maybe this idea hadn't been a good one after all?

' _But what else am I supposed to do?_ ' he thought with a frown.

It was about early afternoon when another team arrived. This one was rather unusual, consisting of a seemingly reduced number of tanks but also two trucks. It occurred to the T20 that this had to be clan people, more specifically a fuel transport. This theory was further supported when they gave two wrecks to the vendors but didn't get anything in return. They didn't stay for a long time and were on their way again soon. Striker realised that this could be his only chance. The convoy did consist of nine tanks nevertheless, which was a number that shouldn't be underestimated, but the medium was desperate enough to be willing to give it a try.

He set himself into motion and started trying to come up with a strategy that would enable him to pull this off.

xxx

' _Well, shit_.' Striker thought as he found himself surrounded and staring down five cannon barrels not much later.


End file.
